


Tiptoe

by eyemeohmy



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (2020)
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, Other, Sex Toys, loud shrugging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22991728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: Robotnik has a little "me time".
Relationships: Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik & Agent Stone, Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone
Comments: 21
Kudos: 190





	Tiptoe

**Author's Note:**

> A retelling of the dancing and scienceing scene because of course.
> 
> Man, I don't got any excuses, I wrote anthropomorphic ducks fucking, at this point who even fucking ca
> 
> Dedicated to Java. 💝 Title comes from [Tiptoe by Goldfrapp](https://youtu.be/Ruyx4v7HHkM). I could have gone with Strict Machine, but no, that'd be _too_ easy.
> 
> Please pardon any errors you may find, merci.

The analysis of the quill's power capacity would take-- 

Well, Robotnik was used to coming up with precise approximations of time, but given the alien origin, there was no telling. (Although he did like challenges--10 minutes at the least, with 20-30 pushing it at most.) This only made him exceptionally more giddy; his own energy levels were off the chart, which was considerably alarming given he had trained himself to remain, by default, at regularized percentages between 50% and 75%, although that fluctuated entirely depending on outside variables and unexpected stimuli Robotnik had yet to program a mostly consistent and common reaction to when exposed. (And _boy_ , were there _a lot_ of firsts coming out of this adventure.)

To put it very simply, Robotnik was hyper, elated and bloated on his ego and the excitement of his new discovery, and with this full blown manic episode came the classic various types of arousal. The need to dance, to expend the energy, to pat himself on the back until he wore a hole into his very expensive and custom-tailored coat.

All work and no play doesn't necessarily make one dull, Jack, if you consider the possibility "business" and "pleasure" don't always need to serve as each others antonyms. Idiot.

Not just victory dances. Not just playing around with the simulator ride. But something a little more... personal. Private. And after a moment's consideration, Robotnik raised his right hand; with a snap of his gloved fingers, a screen popped up, showing every entrance and exit to the van was securely locked.

Robotnik moved swiftly to a blank panel on the wall; just a couple clicks on the hand-held remote, and the metal sheet slid aside. Then a second, a third, an array of crisscrossing red lasers switching off, revealing a single drawer with a control pad. Robotnik sniffed, expertly typing in the 25 numbered passcode. He plucked off a glove just as the pad split open, scanning and confirming his thumbprint.

The drawer opened with a whimsical little jingle that never failed to make Robotnik chuckle and give his hips a playful sway. In three neat, tidy rows, organized by size from smallest to largest, were a variety of devices of different shapes--from an orb no larger than a chicken egg to an undeniably, ridiculously large phallus with buttons along the shaft.

Beyond that, the rest of the sex toys all looked fairly typical. Of course all nice and sleek, either improved upon or entirely original, one of a kind. Robotnik hummed along to the song now playing over the speakers, scanning his collection; he twirled a corner of his mustache idly around one finger, brows furrowed in deep concentration as if he were hacking into [REDACTED] government's database. For the third time.

Finally, with a glimmer in Robotnik's eye, he settled for a medium sized vibrator, pulling on then releasing his mustache so it bounced and curled back into place. In a dainty fashion, Robotnik peeled off his second glove, setting them aside. As soon as he picked up the white-black vibrator, the platform beneath it opened, revealing another pair of gloves. Ash gray with less buttons; he tucked one into his coat pocket, took the vibrator and a bottle of lube off a rack that resembled a row of test tubes, and returned to the opened center of his van.

Plenty of space. Might be a bit cold, but he wasn't intending on getting completely nude. Robotnik undressed with a skip in his step; watch, slacks, briefs, jacket, undershirt, shoes, socks, sock garters, the "not a Star Trek phaser, you dense dweeb" laser attached to aforementioned garters. Then he pulled back on his coat. It felt absolutely divine and so soft against his naked skin, and although it might get a bit... dirty, he had twenty identical copies and a very talented and very discreet dry cleaner.

Robotnik got to his knees, feeling the hums and vibrations of the machinery and equipment at work on the warmly lit floor. He continued singing under his breath as he popped open the bottle of lube, smearing a generous helping on his spindly fingers. After it warmed enough, he brushed aside his coattails, slid his hand back; took a deep breath, then slowly, carefully, worked the first finger inside his ass.

Robotnik chuffed, wincing a little. It'd been a while since he last had alone time like this. Despite the neediness, he slowed down, focusing entirely on the sensations like a switch being flipped on. Robotnik moaned as he started pumping his finger in shallow thrusts, moving from first to second knuckle. As he pushed in a second digit, he fell forward, making a noise between a growl and weird trill.

After a few minutes of heavy scissoring and bleating, Robotnik glanced at the energy analyzer. 48% complete; might not reach the ten minute finishing mark. Agitated and suddenly impatient, Robotnik pulled his hands free, sat back; he coated the rest of the lube on his cock, and ripped the glove from his pocket, hurriedly putting it on.

Robotnik had efficiently prepared himself for Miss Terabyte. The reading was now at 50%--half-complete as Robotnik was half-mast. Perfect. Maybe they'd reach the end together.

A sharp inhale, a heavy exhale, and Robotnik laid himself on the ground, the coat spread out beneath him, the vibrator in hand. He winced as he pushed the toy inside; didn't hurt in a way that was bad (e-fucking-fficent prepping). He felt heat pool into his groin, cock twitching, once the vibrator was settled neatly and snugly inside his ass.

Robotnik shifted to get comfortable, laying back. He looked at his gloved hand: a single button on the thumb, sensors along the fingers, pad on the palm. Taking another deep breath, Robotnik pushed his thumb down against the pad.

"Ohvoo!" the doctor wheezed as the toy activated. He bucked his hips, and suddenly the red and white strobe lights above were dizzying. Robotnik licked his lips, started rubbing the sensor on his thumb against the others along the undersides of his fingers at a slow pace. The vibrations slowed in tandem, and Robotnik shuddered as he relaxed again, digging his heels into the floor.

Robotnik closed his eyes, and was once more greeted to the intricate world of his own creation. One he'd been working on and building for years. One he controlled with a cybernetically enhanced fist. He imagined himself practically throwing the doors off the hinges as he stormed into the President of the United States's office, going on a hyperactive tirade on how this buffoon, like all the other world leaders, was too inadequate, too weak for the position of power they were in, and as Robotnik had his goons promptly remove the terrified, blubbering former president from their seat, Robotnik's grinding thumb picked up speed. 

The toy's vibrations shot through the doctor, and he gave out a breathy squeal, rising off the ground before dropping back down again. As wet fantasy Robotnik fell all too carelessly and comfortably in the president's chair, the real doctor's legs squirmed, thighs twitching, opening wider to take more of Miss Terabyte.

Fast-forward a week. All his perfect creations, his drones, his arsenal, his wildest imagination now made reality easily taking out any and all rebelling forces. He watched his drones shoot down fighter jets and helicopters, all the explosions and laser beam light mimicking fireworks on the Fourth of July, and what do you know, he had a perfect seat from his own tower that made the Burj Khalifa skyscraper look like a prosaic 6 year old's shitty craft project. Enjoying this show--this show that was held just for him--with a bottle of Romanée-Conti red wine and the finest cheeses Earth's dictator could buy*.

(*Given freely, as Robotnik longer needed to pay for anything.)

Robotnik whimpered giddily, reached down to take his hard cock in hand, stroking at the same exact speed as the vibrator, as his grinding thumb. As Robotnik teased his slit, dragging finger back and forth, back and forth, the fantasy scenario changed with an almost comical film wipe.

Back in the president's office, just after roasting marshmallows on a pile of burning protester and freedom fighter propaganda posters. Robotnik leaned, half naked (always in the coat) over the desk, and hands gripped him by the waist just as his finger accidentally jabbed a little too hard against his slit.

It was _him_ again. A recent intruder into his private world. One that Robotnik knew he should banish, but for some reason, granted him visitation rights. It might have been the fact this person shared Agent Stone's face--a man who was so tremendously harmless, he posed no threat to the structural fabric of this fantasy.

And yet...

Robotnik's thumb slowed a little, the vibrations almost ceasing. As his imagination's counterpart tested the waters, so did he, allowing Stone the audacity to lift up his coattails and press his slick cock into his ass. Allowing the insipid, maybe a little handsome man to pin the doctor against the desk as he took him in hard, fast thrusts that matched the vibrations practically shooting into his prostate and when had he started moving his thumb again?

This wasn't the first time Agent Stone appeared in Robotnik's fantasies. The last time, he had Robotnik on his knees-- _of all places_ \--sucking him off, then complimenting his "milk mustache" and for all the stupidity, Robotnik was fucking his hand with abandon now, arching off the floor, panting and whining like some--some-- _words_ \--

Robotnik ground his teeth, hips jerking and undulating to match the way they moved against the desk, back into Stone's cock buried to the hilt inside him. The vibrator suddenly didn't feel like enough, his hand didn't feel like enough. It needed to be Stone's hand (just like that, just like that), working under his coat (Jesus _Christ_ , yes).

The doctor refused to acknowledge he was whimpering and keening loudly. It was... embarrassing, even too obscene for this scene. He threw his head back, momentarily distracted by a loose lock of hair falling free across his eyes shut so tight they stung, and he could see a galaxy of stars.

Robotnik was getting close now. He could hear the analyzer beeping--scan was almost complete. He needed to drive this home, hard enough his orgasm threatened to keep him on the floor for hours. Hard like Stone's cock hitting his prostate over and over--

Robotnik gasped, kicking his legs, squirming. Over the desk, on his knees, in the cockpit of his jet, in Stone's lap, piloting his death machine as Stone bit and sucked on his exposed throat, palming the erection tenting the front of his suit--

With one last thrust of the vibrating toy, and a hard tug on his dick, Robotnik finally climaxed, spewing a litany of profanities in four different languages. Cum spilled along his belly, staining into the edge of his coat. He milked his orgasm with a few twitches of his hips, coming down with breathless moans until his stiff body went boneless and collapsed back on the floor.

Robotnik panted. The fantasy faded as he slowly opened his eyes, blinking away tears until his vision cleared. With a pained little grunt, he jabbed his thumb into the palm-pad, switching off the vibrator. Robotnik laid there for a few minutes, re-calibrating, collecting his thoughts. His mouth was dry, he was shaking, he wanted to nap--but no rest for the wicked, as they say.

"Oh, you're done! Great!"

Robotnik screamed, twisting and flopping on the floor like a fish out of water. Agent Stone watched, surprised and concerned, lowering the two cups in his hands. Finally, Robotnik drew to his feet, face furiously red. "Agent!" he barked, quickly closing his coat around his naked front. How did this insufferable little _weed_ break into--

Something hit the ground with a wet, clattering thud.

Agent Stone glanced at the toy. "If this is a bad time..." He turned slowly for the nearest door.

Robotnik reached out a hand, hissing through grit teeth. His fingers twitched, and he growled. He was imagining Stone's throat in his hand, throttling the life out-- Something clicked, and he spotted the cups in the agent's hands. "Are those..." Robotnik sniffed, cleared his dry throat. "... lattes?"

Stone beamed like a bright ray of sunshine. Robotnik winced. "With steamed Austrian goat milk! Just as you like them!" he declared, holding out a drink.

Well. Robotnik had been caught red-handed, and Stone didn't appear to grasp the gravity of the situation, so might as well. He snatched up the latte, glowered, sulking, as he took a long, loud sip. That... hit the spot, a little _too_ perfectly.

Stone finally addressed one of the elephants in the room and nodded at the stain on Robotnik's coat. "Want me to dry clean that for you, doctor?" he asked with a hopeful smile.

Robotnik blushed. "... Yes," he mumbled.

Stone blinked, then snickered. "Nice milk mustache, sir," he teased, pointing at the foam on Robotnik's mustache.

Robotnik shrieked.


End file.
